


Part 21: Quinn

by oiuytrewq36



Series: Straight to Number One [9]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiuytrewq36/pseuds/oiuytrewq36
Summary: When I open my door to see Sam, Frances, Justin, Brian, and a skinny blond lady who I’ve met, like, once - Brian’s assistant or something, I think - I’m not exactly surprised, because my general rule for when weird shit starts happening is to expect it to continue.
Series: Straight to Number One [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891456
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Part 21: Quinn

**Author's Note:**

> this is the last chapter for a while that's pure plot, I promise (because, to be honest, writing plot is so much more boring than writing fun snappy dialogue)

Sam sends me a cryptic text message about **bringing some guests over for dinner to talk about something important** \- something he’s literally never done before - right around when he usually leaves the office. Then I get another one, from Frances this time: **don’t worry, it’s not anything bad, you don’t have to get involved if you don’t want to** , which immediately makes me worried that it is something bad and I’m going to get involved in it whether I want to or not.

When I open my door to see Sam, Frances, Justin, Brian, and a skinny blond lady who I’ve met, like, once - Brian’s assistant or something, I think - I’m not exactly surprised, because my general rule for when weird shit starts happening is to expect it to continue. I look at Sam and telegraph _what the fuck is going on_ as best I can; he comes back with _we’ll explain, it’s complicated_ , so I step aside and say, as obnoxiously as I can, “Why don’t you all make yourselves at home?”

Six people do not fit well in your average two-income Manhattan apartment - sorry, kids, _Friends_ was lying to you all along - but we manage it, mostly. I claim my computer chair right away, and take a fair amount of perverse glee in watching Brian and the blond admin lady try to find a place to sit that won’t wrinkle their respective suits. Feeling just a little bit like Blofeld, I spin the chair around once before facing the five of them (if I’d planned this out better, I could have retrieved Violet from the bedroom and had her on my lap to complete the effect) and asking, “So, much as I love surprise dinner engagements” - Sam winces; he knows that I, in fact, hate surprise dinner engagements with a vicious passion - “would someone mind telling me what the _fuck_ is going on?”

Frances takes a stack of papers and a magazine out of her purse. “Do you know what Outrise is?”

That is … not what I was expecting. “The charity that was on the cover of _Pink_?”

Frances flips the magazine to face me, and I realize it’s the issue that I just referred to. “So this guy,” she says, poking at the face on the front, “is skeevy as shit.”

I still don’t understand what this has to do with me, but I could never resist some good public-figure gossip. “Skeevy how?”

“Skeevy like he stole twenty-five thousand dollars from an AIDS hospice in Pittsburgh,” Justin says. “He’s driven at least three more into bankruptcy in the last seven years, and those are just the ones we know about.”

I whistle. “Well, that’s not great.” Brian snorts.

“The problem is,” Frances says, “what he does is technically legal. Or we thought it was, anyway.”

The blond lady grabs the magazine. “None of us could believe that Outrise could possibly have an overhead this low, considering how much Pendergrass - that’s this creep - likes spending exorbitant portions of his clients’ funds on five-star hotel stays and six-hundred-dollar bottles of champagne.”

Frances starts shuffling through the stack of papers. “Justin and I went through all the tax filings we could find for Outrise for the past three years, and we think we’ve found something.”

She pauses, probably for dramatic effect, so I roll my eyes and say, “The suspense is killing me.”

“We think that Pendergrass is using a shell company to hide the fact that he’s taking a fifty-percent cut of all Outrise grants and donations for himself,” Justin says. “And that he’s lying about the overhead so that he can draw in more donors, which means more cash for him.”

“What we actually know is that there are two programs listed on this form that are basically identical, except that one of them is linked to some company called Neveaux Childhood Enrichment International and the other isn’t. And that Justin saw Pendergrass’s secretary going into a building that appears to house Neveaux’s offices. Everything else is just speculation.”

I’m starting to get an idea of what they might want, so I look at Sam. “Did you know about this?”

He shakes his head. “They just said they needed to talk to you, and it was important.”

Frances almost looks embarrassed. Almost. “We need more proof if we want to take Pendergrass down, but we can’t access it,” she says.

There it is. “So you need me, your friendly neighorhood white-hat hacker, to help you.”

“If we could access the financial records for Neveaux, wire transfers, bank statements,” Justin says, “we could prove what they’re doing.”

“Wait a minute-” Sam says. About fifteen seconds behind me in figuring out what’s going on, as usual - one of his many endearing qualities.

I hold up a hand. “I know what you’re going to ask, so don’t bother.”

Justin looks crestfallen. I’m tempted to throw something at him, but I don’t. “I’m not saying no. Yet. But I need to think about this.”

The oven dings. “Dinner’s ready,” I say, feeling weirdly energetic. 

***

While the others are talking quietly in the living room area, Sam comes over to help me get the now-not-frozen pizzas out of the oven. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have made them tell me-”

I smile at him. “It’s okay. And I don’t blame them, either, if I’m being honest. Remember when I took down the asswipe who started that outing website in grad school?” 

He laughs. “How could I forget?”

I rummage through our weird-wedding-gifts-we-almost-never-use drawer until I find the pizza wheel and hand it to him. “I understand what it takes to bring down the bad guys. In this case, it seems like it might be me.”

He turns away from his pizza-cutting focus to look right at me. “You’re thinking about it?”

I sigh. “If you really think I shouldn’t, I’ll- well, it wouldn’t stop me, but I’d reconsider.” I pause. “I’m an _ethical_ hacker, Sam. And taking down this piece of shit seems pretty ethical to me.”

Sam kisses my cheek. “Can’t disagree with that unrelenting moral code I love so much, I guess.”

I snort. “Just give me the damn pizza plate.”

***

When most of the food is gone, I say, without preamble, “I’ll do it.” 

Everyone turns to look at me.

I push my plate to the side. “But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right, and you’re all going to understand exactly what you have to do for it to happen.”

They nod in slightly disconcerting unison.

“First of all, this conversation never happened. We had a charming social evening and that was it. Right?”

“Right,” Justin and Frances echo while the others nod.

“Second, you don’t reference this project. Ever. I will update you; you will not ask me questions. Next, this isn’t like the movies. It will take weeks, maybe longer. I have the right setup and the right skills, but it won’t happen all at once. And finally, if I don’t end up finding anything - which may well happen - you all promise to keep working to take this fucker down, because I’m not doing all this work for nothing.”

Feeling oddly solemn, I raise my glass in a kind of half-toast. “To incriminating data.”

The others laugh, for the first time in hours, I think, and follow my lead.


End file.
